


A Smile Like The Sun

by ThatDarnLakeSiren



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Fainting, Fluff, I do not know how to tag I am sorry, Magic, Panic/Anxiety Attack, Short, Stress, Transformation?, Wholesome, as in very very minor, collapse, fixing broken things, making deals, minor description of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDarnLakeSiren/pseuds/ThatDarnLakeSiren
Summary: A throned Maxie is bored with the anticipated results of a pawns broken goggles, but his unintentional mercy brooks unexpected results with the one known only as, “the Dandelion Boy”…--------------Now featuring other, only semi-related bits of nonsense about our dear ol' Dandelion Boy...
Kudos: 3





	1. Settling Roots Into the Cracks...

The kid still hadn’t moved.

Maxwell peered through the viewing portal, growing somewhat bored with the whole spectacle. 

The kid had been sitting huddled under a tree since before noon, face hidden in his knees, arms further shielding his face. The crying had eased off hours before, though the source of the distress was still lying at the kids feet. A pair of aviator goggles, the lenses tinted unusually dark, shattered to pieces around the rocks the kid had been gathering. Even with the lengthening shadows of the evening, and the threat of nightfall, the kid still didn’t move.

Maxwell knew exactly what would happen next. The exact same thing had happened half a dozen times already. Night would fall, the kid would scramble to get a fire going, and immediately return to sulking without his precious precious goggles. The sun would rise, and the kid wouldn’t hardly move. Once or twice, if he had a pack, he’d rifle through without looking, and eat whatever food he had stored away inside, but that was it. He would simply sit there, starving, until his fire ran out by night, or some other threat came in the day to kill him.

Maxwell decided to see what the devil was the matter with this kid, tired of the same old song and dance, and projected himself nearby. Summoning a cigar, easy as anything, he approached the kid, “Say Pal, what’s the matter?” 

The kid jolted, shifting as though to uncurl, but he’d barely raised his head an inch before he’d lowered it again. A soft mutter of pain, then a louder noise, clearly a friendly greeting.

“Well that’s hardly polite, pal. Show some respect and look me in the eye, kid.” Maxwell stated, tone sharp. 

The kid hesitated a long moment, before slowly uncurling, rising to his feet. The boy had his eyes shut tight, hands tightening spasmodically into fists at his side as he blinked them open, before they winced shut. The kid whined again, lowering his head and covering his eyes with one hand, before managing “S-sorry…”

Maxwell frowned, “The hell is wrong with ya, kid?” He moved closer, barely any space between himself and the kid as he loomed threateningly. 

The kid tilted his head slightly, mumbling softly. With his hand still covering his eyes, he craned his head up, as thought to look at Maxwell. He abruptly crouched, free hand ghosting over the ground, until he landed upon his broken goggles. Shards of glass spilled out from his open palm as he rose to his feet, holding the damaged eyewear out, as though in offering. “Broken.” 

“I can see that.” Maxwell drawls, taking the broken thing from the kids hand. 

The kid yelped and blindly reached, whining. “No!” he cried, frantic, holding out his hand and making a “give me” motion. “Pl-please! G-g-give it b-b-ba-ack!”

Maxwell looked over the kid again, the wobbling lip and drawn in brows, left nearly to tears without the damn goggles. “Why? They’re completely useless, kid.”

The kid whined, hiccuping softly. “N-n-n-_need_ muh, mm, mh-my,” he dissolved into unhappy mumbling and sharp trills, struggling to speak and stuttering severely over himself.

Maxwell looked at the goggles, lightly thumbing over what little glass still clung to the frames. Needed them, huh? Was the light, even the barely-there light of sundown, really too much for this kid? It was an unusual and exploitable weakness… and completely boring. The kid did nothing but sit around until something came along and killed him whenever his goggles broke… why not mix it up a little?

Maxwell crouched, pushing the kid back a little in order to scrape up as many shards of dark glass as he could, until he had a handful of shards and leather goggle frames. With just a touch of shadow magic, the goggles were completely repaired, with not even a scratch. The King of Shadows then took the bewildered kids’ hand, and pressed the newly repaired goggles into them.

Maxwell stood back, taking a long drag of his cigar as the kid felt over the item in his hand, made a noise of shock and relief, and hurriedly pulled the goggles back on. The kid lowered his hands, tension bleeding from his shoulders, before a big, bright smile took up the kids whole face. And before he could react, Maxwell found a small, warm body pressed up against his, two small arms wrapped around his waist. 

“Th-th-thank you! Th-thanks!” the boy was still smiling so brightly, extremely thankful that Maxwell had fixed his goggles, and showing his thankfulness by hugging the King of Shadows… not an ounce of fear in the kid.

It was as baffling as the first time Maxwell had spoken with the kid, offering the Dandelion Boy a deal… the pure gratefulness at being allowed out of the dark, grimy basement was like a sunbeam in a thunderstorm. 

It was… such an odd feeling, to not be feared, to actually have prompted happiness or at least relief in another… it was a very odd feeling, but… not entirely unwelcome. 

He had to leave. _Now._

Maxwell grimaced, all sharp teeth, and shoved the boy off -with far more gentleness than he intended- and stepped back. “It’s getting dark, pal. Might want to light a fire.” he suggests, taking another step back, about to vanish again.

The kid glanced around, realizing the coming dark, but turned back and smiled again at Max, nodding. “Th-thank you.” 

Maxwell didn’t answer, simply left, recalling his projection. Still bound to the throne, he felt nothing particularly different; he still felt rather empty and lacking of hope, numb to the cold and his surroundings… yet, and yet… 

The King opened a simple portal, peering at the kid as he scrambled about, setting up a small fire and huddled near it. The boy was still smiling, lightly touching his goggles as though to ensure they were still there.

…he hadn’t intended to show such kindness… he hadn’t expected to _feel_ anything as a result of it, let alone a sense of… of… _warmth_.

Maxwell wouldn’t make the same mistake again. _They_ would make sure of it…


	2. And Within the Night Lies...

He had never feared the dark.

The dark and shadowed places were often where he felt most comfortable, in fact. The light was… to put it simply, it _hurt_. It pierced and burned his eyes and he couldn’t look, couldn’t see anything, even in weaker, indirect light. His goggles helped to fix that, lenses tinted dark like a wielders mask, keeping the light from reaching him so readily, from hurting him. Allowing him to walk in the daylight, to bear his torch easily in the coming night.

So, no, Wally wasn’t particularly afraid his first night in the Constant when the sun came down. It was startling, just how _complete_ the darkness was, unable to see his hands, but he wasn’t afraid. He had guessed it was simply a new moon, there must be cloud cover blocking the starlight…

And then the monster struck. 

A strange noise in the dark preluding a sharp blow to his shoulder, sending him sprawling against the rocks he’d been trying to collect moments before. He had barely managed to his feet when he was struck again, cold cruel claws tearing him apart, ripping off his prosthetic and shattering his goggles as he crashed into the ground face first. It was terrifying and sudden and he barely felt the pain when it all dissolved into nothing.

He woke up, as he had before, to Maxwell towering over him, warning him that it’ll be dark soon, that he might want to find some food… or a torch.

Wally had done a little better that time. The monster in the dark seemed shy of the light, even the weak light of fireflies. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t keen on finding out…

But he still did not fear the darkness. There were things to be feared in it, true, but the dark itself was not to blame. The dark had been a safe place for so long… it was difficult to think of it as anything that needed fearing.

And then… the monster in the dark… _changed_. Accompanying the warning hiss as he entered its territory, was the almost overwhelming scent of flowers… roses, in particular. It was… baffling, frankly. That and… the monster didn’t sound… quite so monsterish. It sounded less like an animal… and more like a human trying to sound like an animal. Trying to sound like a scary monster…

He couldn’t speak well, but he tried to reach out to the monster in the dark… maybe it was like the fairytales his mum and Engie and Pyro had told him… some trapped in a curse, in a form not their own, that needed help.

So… he tried to reach out. He wandered into the dark with an unlit torch, and tried, tried his dang hardest to speak to the person in the dark. To express that he wanted to help… he was injured far too often, far, far too often… sometimes to the point of his own demise…

However, he quickly learned how to anticipate the monsters strikes. From the warning hiss and floral scent, to the moment before it would attempt to harm him. He tried, again and again, lighting his torch in a flourish, to catch the monster, catch the person, but every time it was for naught… he couldn’t even catch a single glimpse of them.

And oddly… with the growing humanity he suspected in the night monsters… Max had disappeared. Whenever Wally had to restart, there was no one to greet him… it was… saddening, really. He hoped Maxwell was merely busy elsewhere… that he hadn’t… forgotten Wally…

Then, something new happened. A new person, who smelled a little like roses. A woman, in a black dress, with a kind smile, and an offer… an offer to let him be with people again. Good people, or so she said…

_“I’ll do anything to not be alone…”_

And in the end… she had held up her side of the bargain, though it certainly didn’t seem that way initially.

Because, Wally woke up… as a bird. Crow or raven, he wasn’t sure… but not only that, he was all alone… and there was a treeguard stomping mere yards from him on top of that… stomping _towards_ him and– 

And he didn’t know how to fly.


	3. Drowning (On Dry Land)

_What are you waiting for? _ _Just… **do** something already! _ _I don’t want to make things worse… _ _What is happening?!_

*sniffle*

_This is all my fault…_

Wally couldn’t pull his gaze away. Winna was sprawled out on the frozen ground; the Telltale Heart gone, the Ghost Blossoms vanished, that budding sense of warmth in the air ripped away. 

_…was she even breathing? _

The frantic thought finally got Wally to move, body unlocking as he lunged forward, carefully turning her onto her back. She was pale, lips turning blue from the cold… he tore off his glove, realized with annoyance and growing panic that it was his prosthetic and ripped off his other glove. The cold immediately bit into his bare flesh, _So cold out… and wasn’t that the root of the probem?_

He lightly pressed his hand over her mouth, a soft cup shape, and after a moment, felt a shallow puff of breath. Wally sagged with relief, shoulders slumping. _Still alive._

But hardly out of the woods yet, was she? Winna was so cold… He gripped her shoulders, shaking her, “Wih, nuh? Wih-nuh?? Wih, Wih-, nuh!!” the air itself seeming to barb itself up in his chest when she didn’t respond in the slightest. What else could explain the biting pain in his lungs?

_She’s so cold… get her inside, get her **warm**._

Stupid, idiot, it was freezing outside, snow on the ground… why didn’t he move her before this? 

He was little still, but Wally was able to get a decent hold of her, only her legs dragging as he got her away from the garden and into the yurt. Brushing off snow and bundling her up in all the blankets they had in camp. Rushing about to warm thermal stones and tuck them in. 

Growing frantic, hands shaking, breathing fast, soft gasping breaths, unable to draw in enough air, unable to_ think_, and he was useless wasn’t he, he didn’t know what to do, couldn’t light a damn fire, couldn’t hold the tongs, couldn’t find the damn thermal stones–

_What good was he?! **What good was he?!**_


End file.
